Games of the Heart

by Pamela Yaye

  “She could wrap them around me twice!” Admiring the woman from afar, but wishing she was only a breath away, Roderick smoothed a hand over his mustache. “I’d do basic training all over again if she was the drill sergeant!”

  Chuckles broke out across the table.

  Returning his gaze across the room, Marshall watched the crowd dissipate, leaving Denzel and the shapely sister in the denim miniskirt. When she turned around, he got a clear, unrestricted view of her face. As he watched her count her winnings, it suddenly clicked where they had met before. It was the World Mission volunteer. Marshall thought she’d looked familiar, but couldn’t immediately place her. Downing the rest of his drink, he slipped out of the booth. “Be right back, fellas.”

  “Aw, not you too, bro.” Roderick gripped his forearm. “You saw what happened to Patterson. Don’t be a fool, man. Leave that woman alone before you end up crying in your drink.”

  “It’s not like that, Baxter. I know her.”

  “That’s the same stupid mess Patterson said.”

  “It’ll be okay, man. Hang back.”

  Releasing his hold, he shrugged a shoulder. “All right. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when she does the Moon Walk all over your pride.”

  “She won’t. I wouldn’t be going over there if I thought she was going to diss me.”

  Dubious about his friend’s chances of success, he said, “Fifty dollars says you won’t get her phone number.”

  “Make it a hundred and you’re on.”

  “There’ll be no I-owe-yous, either. I want my money tonight. Hear me, Grant?”

  “I hear you.”

  Roderick pointed north. “There’s an ATM machine at the entrance. Make sure you have my dough when you come back!”

  Disregarding his friend’s warning, he strode purposefully through the dining area. By the time he reached the bar, Denzel had slunk away and the woman was alone.

  “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” It was an old line, but that didn’t stop him from using it. From what he remembered about the World Mission volunteer, she had a quick laugh and a great sense of humor. After filling out the sponsorship forms, they’d sat in the living room talking about movies and sports and music. “I thought you looked familiar.”

  Sage cast a smoldering look over her shoulder. “Do I know you?”

  Deflated, but not defeated, Marshall maintained his smile. “You came by my house a few days ago. We talked about World Mission’s sponsorship program.” He was rambling, but didn’t stop. He’d rather make a fool of himself in her presence than return to the booth a hundred dollars poorer. “I live on Irvington Lane, across the street from the park. Mine’s the gray and white house with the basketball hoop out front.”

  A pensive expression on her face, she slowly spun around on the stool. “Um…Marshall—Marshall Grant, right?”

  Nodding, he sighed inwardly. She remembered him. Pleased, he planted himself in the seat beside her. Roderick might crack on him tonight, but it wouldn’t be because this gorgeous woman shot him down. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  “How come?”

  Dressed in a cashmere sweater that plunged boldly between her breasts and an itsy-bitsy skirt that skimmed her thighs, she exuded a raw sexuality that demanded attention. She had smoky eyes, and her light brown hair was swept off her shoulders in a side ponytail. Sage Collins was the sister every woman in the bar wanted to be and for good reason. And her work meant she was trying to make the world a better place too. His dream girl. A vixen—and a shapely one at that—with a heart of gold.

  Leaning in to ensure he was heard above the clamor, he said, “No baggy gray sweater and gym shoes. Tonight, you deserve a place in that Victoria’s Secret fashion show. Wings and all!”

  Sage laughed. “And the other day?”

  “Your beauty was concealed to meet the needs of orphaned children.”

  “Nice save.”

  “Thanks.” In the hopes of eliciting a smile, he said, “I can’t imagine what you’d be doing here alone. Your date’s a fool for making you wait. Give him hell when he shows up.”

  Sage smiled, the sheer warmth of it crippling him. “I was supposed to meet a friend for drinks, but…” Straining her eyes toward the door, she sighed. Glancing down at her watch, she said, “It looks like I’ve been stood up.”

  Marshall couldn’t believe his luck. She was alone? If he bought her drinks and kept making her laugh, maybe she wouldn’t mind joining him for dinner. He would get to know her better and impress the guys in the process.

  “Well, it was nice seeing you again, Marshall.” Sage finished her drink, then placed the empty glass on the bar. “See you around.”

  Touching her arm gently, he motioned to her vacant stool. “Don’t rush off. Let me get you another drink. What are you having?”

  “An Orgasm.”

  Marshall was quick to laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

  “I couldn’t be more serious.”

  He studied her for a moment. “All right, an Orgasm it is.”

  “Ah, if it was only that easy,” Sage quipped with a dramatic sigh.

  “It is. All women need to do is ask and men would gladly give them the world.”

  “Right. Is that before or after you ask to hold some money until payday?”

  “That’s cold,” he said, slumping in his seat. He couldn’t believe a woman this attractive and this intelligent had ever had trouble with the opposite sex. She was fit, free and oh so fine. What more could a guy want? “It sounds like you’ve been dating the wrong fellas,” he told her. “We’re not all lazy freeloaders, you know. At least I’m not.”

  “And what makes you so different?”

  “I was raised in an era of strict discipline, butt whuppings and Al Green!”

  Her laughter filled the room with its sweet perfume.

  Marshall soaked up the sound, giving his ears their fill. There was nothing like flirting with an attractive woman to inflate a man’s ego. Sage was the “It Girl” in the bar, and that made him the man. His confidence stirred, rose, pushed him to say something he’d never live down if his friends heard him. “All we brothers want to do is please you. But you sisters are harder to crack than a Rubik’s Cube puzzle!” Marshall chuckled long and hard. “Women make men into who they are, so don’t get mad if we come on too strong.”

  Sage rolled her eyes.

  “Present company excluded, but you sisters are fierce! Dropping it like it’s hot at the club, prancing around in your too-short tops, barely-there-skirts and sexy, five-inch stilettos.” He shrugged. “It’s a woman’s game. We men just play along.”

  “Oh,” she crooned, her voice octaves higher, “so that’s why you guys dog us out all the time. Because we’re smart and sexy and not afraid to show it?”

  “You’ve got it all wrong. That’s not what I’m saying.” In the hopes of redeeming himself in her eyes, he said, “I heard something on The Dr. Robin Show on the radio that challenged my views about male and female relationships.”

  “Really?” Sage raised her eyebrows. “And what was that?”

  “Love is selfless. When you love someone, you’re actually loving yourself in the truest, realest way. If you shortchange the people you love, you’re doing a disservice not only to them, but to yourself.”

  “Relationships 101, according to the cynical youth center director. Interesting.”

  Marshall frowned. “How did you know I run a center? I didn’t mention that when you were over the other day.”

  “Khari told me,” she lied, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue. “All this talk about honesty makes me want to confess.”

  “To what?”

  “We’ve met before.”

  His eyes bulged. “We have?”

  “Last week my boss took me to the basketball game at Westchester Academy. I was starving, so I decided to buy myself a snack, but when I put my money in the vending machine…”

  Marshall star
ed at her lips. They were full and moist and looked softer than a Georgia peach. She had a beauty mark above her lips, Bambilike eyes, and her breath smelled sweet.

  “I shouldn’t have been so bitchy, but I was running on three hours of sleep and one measly cup of coffee. I just wanted to apologize for acting so childish.”

  The sheer intensity of her smile almost knocked him off his stool. Changing the channel in his mind, he fought to remember what they’d been talking about. Women complained that men didn’t listen and here was another shining example. Normally he was focused, attentive, alert. In his line of work he had to be. Let your guard down and you could lose your life. But something about this woman left his brain scattering like a pack of marbles. “Ah, sure, okay. No problem.”

  “When I looked over my shoulder and saw you standing there, glowering at me, I had memories of my high school principal, Mr. McCaffery.” Shuddering, she closed her eyes as if haunted by his image. “The man was old, mean, and hated kids, especially me.”

  “We met at my son’s basketball game?” Marshall asked, finally gathering himself. “You were the psycho—” he cleared his throat “—I mean, the nuisance beating up the vending machine?”

  Her smile fell. “Yeah, it was me.”

  “You?” His eyes glazed with doubt. “That’s impossible.”

  Pretending to be angry, she accused him of being distracted by one of the young, female servers. “I just finished telling you my side of the story. Weren’t you listening?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know where my mind was.” He did, but admitting he had been fantasizing about her would scare her off. Unconvinced she was the culprit, he examined her face closely. She didn’t look like the woman he had butted heads with, but she could have been. “No way that was you! She had bangs. That much I know for sure. She kept blowing them out of her eyes.”

  “What can I say? I’m a chameleon,” she said, crossing her legs. “I’d go crazy if I had the same hairstyle longer than a month, so I change it whenever the mood strikes.”

  “Your hair was different when you were at the house yesterday. It was shorter, darker, right?”

  “Yeah, I had it done this morning.” She touched the nape of her neck. “Like it?”

  “Love it.”

  Their eyes met. Stroking his jaw, he noted the vibrancy of her skin and the sensuous width of her smile. Silky-smooth layers cascaded over her shoulders, softening the bold, eye-catching shade. How come he hadn’t noticed her nose ring? Or her striking bone structure? If he had spent less time admiring her luscious backside and more time making eye contact, he wouldn’t look like Bozo the Clown now.

  “Let me take you out for dinner. Or you could just join me and the guys tonight.”

  Sage took a sip of her cocktail, mulling over his invitation. One-on-one, Marshall Grant was putty in her hands, but would he be as sincere around his army buddies? One woman sitting at a table with four men did not make for a pleasant evening. They’d be tripping over themselves trying to impress her, while all she was to be alone with Marshall. Not liking her chances at four-to-one, she politely declined. “I already ate,” she lied, motioning to the empty plate on the bar. Sage didn’t know who it belonged to, but she was glad the prop was there. “Maybe next time.”

  If Marshall was disappointed, his face didn’t show it. “No problem, but we should definitely get together sometime.”

  “It’s twenty below outside,” she said, coyly. “Where are you going to take me?”

  “Slide me your number and you’ll find out.”

  The bartender produced a ballpoint pen. “There you go,” he said cheerfully, resting it on the counter. “Just holler if you need anything else.”

  Seconds later, Sage handed Marshall a napkin covered in her scrawled handwriting. “Happy now?”

  “Very.” He took the napkin from her outstretched hand. His touch, though slight, stirred the fire within her. And when he leaned over and whispered a few scintillating words in her ear, her heart bounced up in her throat. “Be sure to call,” she said casually, though it sounded like an order.

  “It was nice seeing you again, Sage. And I will.”

  Not ready for him to go, she put a hand on his forearm. “Thanks for the drink. And I’ll try to remember what you said about…orgasms.”

  His mouth stretched into a scrumptious grin. “You do that.” A wink, then he stood and strode away.

  Chapter 4

  “What do you mean he won’t set a wedding date?” Sage asked, wedging the cell phone between her ear and shoulder. Needing to exercise, but unfamiliar with the city, she had decided to drive down to Westchester Academy and jog on the outdoor track. The hotel gym was temporarily closed for renovations, and she couldn’t afford to miss a third consecutive workout.

  “Tangela, you guys have been engaged for two years. How much more time does Warrick need?” Sage put her keys into her pocket and walked briskly toward the field. The wind was fierce, but the sun was strong and bright. A minute into her jog and she’d be nice and warm.

  “You’re preaching to the choir, Sage. I’ve had this conversation with Warrick so many times, I’m starting to argue with him in my sleep!”

  Sage laughed. Despite the circumstances, her best friend still had jokes. Sage had known Tangela Howard ever since she showed up on their foster mom’s doorstep fifteen years ago, clutching a stuffed elephant and a bag of dirty clothes. Exiled to the basement, the girls had regaled themselves by dressing up in Ms. Claxton’s nurse uniforms and imitating her thick Trinidadian accent. In a matter of weeks, they had joined forces against the hot-tempered woman, and even after all these years, they were still tighter than a new pair of pumps.

  “What’s the hold up now? Last year he postponed the wedding because of his father’s stroke. That’s understandable, but I thought you said his dad’s been up and running for months.”

  “That was then. Now he said he’s too busy expanding his company to think about planning some wedding,” she explained.

  Dumbstruck, Sage closed her gaping mouth. “‘Some wedding’?” she choked out. “What does he mean he doesn’t have time to plan some wedding? It’s his wedding—to the woman he loves.”

  “I know. Can you believe he said that? I cook, clean and even massage his crusty feet, and now he’s telling me he doesn’t have time to get married!”

  Stretching on the track, Sage shook her head. How had her adventurous, free-spirited friend become a kept woman begging a man to marry her? Sage had never considered marrying any of her ex-boyfriends. But then again, no one had ever asked. Waking up to the same man for the next forty years sounded as exciting as an early-morning root canal. No way. Marriage wasn’t for everyone, and Sage was smart enough to know it wasn’t right for her. All she needed was a foot rub, Usher on blast, and some toe-curling sex. Send her on her way with an orgasm and a smile and she was happier than Pamela Anderson in a bridal boutique. “Tangela, you know what the problem is, don’t you? You’re spoiling him. You do too much for Warrick and now he doesn’t appreciate you. Ever heard the saying, ‘be sensible in love or end up getting burned’?”

  “But how can you love somebody too much?” she questioned, her voice filled with genuine wonder. “I love taking care of Warrick, and he’s a good man. I just want us to make things official. Hell, at this point I’d forgo my dreams of a church wedding and marry him at the justice of the peace. All I want is to become Mrs. Warrick Carver.”

  Sage couldn’t resist saying, “That’s what you get for moving in with him. I told you not to do it, but you wouldn’t listen to me. Now he’s treating you like the hired help because it’s his house.”

  “Oh, please! Don’t act like a saint because you lived with Jake and Adrian,” she pointed out. “How can you tell me not to do something you’ve done twice?”

  “That was years ago,” Sage explained, bristling at the accusation. “I was young and stupid then and I had nowhere else to go. You, on the other hand, make good money
as a senior flight attendant. You had your own house, a car and plenty of money before you ever met Warrick. Sure he’s bought you a lot of nice stuff over the years, but nothing you couldn’t buy for yourself.”

  “You’re right.” There was a hitch in her voice. “Sage, you know Warrick. You’ve seen us together. Why do you really think he won’t set a wedding date?”

  Sage paused. Her best friend was hurting and the last thing she wanted to do was pour more oil onto the fire. But what kind of friend would she be if she didn’t tell Tangela the truth? “Girl, you know I love Warrick like a brother, but I think he’s playing you. He’s doing just enough to keep you around. After all, he didn’t pop the question until you threatened to leave, right? You applied the pressure and he caved. He dangled that Harry Winston diamond in your face and you snatched it up quicker than a rabbit with a big, fat, juicy carrot!”

  “It’s not like that,” she protested. “It’s great that he has money, but I’d marry Warrick even if he wasn’t a millionaire.”

  “I know, Tangela. I know.” Sage sat down on the cold pavement and tied her shoelaces. “Are you still thinking about moving out?”

  The silence was profound.

  “I don’t know. There’s a lot going on right now and…I’m not sure.”

  Tangela was holding back. Something else was troubling her, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Instead of pressing the issue, Sage offered to help. “I’ll be back next week, but if you need somewhere to go—”

  “I know. Use the spare key, feed the fish and don’t eat all of the shredded wheat,” she repeated in a lifeless tone of someone who’d heard it many times before.

  Sage laughed. Bending her hips like a pretzel, she slowly reached down and touched the tips of her sneakers. Five more minutes of stretching and she’d give her lazy body a good dose of exercise.

  “How are things going up there? Made any progress with that Marshall guy?”

  Recalling what happened last night at Champions Sports Bar frustrated Sage afresh, but made Tangela laugh hysterically. “If it wasn’t for Denzel, the player from hell, I would’ve spent the rest of the night hanging out with Marshall.”